


Enchanted Dorian

by cr_rc



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Ella Enchanted AU, Fluff, Halward Pavus' A+ Parenting, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-01 09:24:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6512632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cr_rc/pseuds/cr_rc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian escaped after the sucessful blood magic ritual "to change his nature". However, it hadn't gone as Halward had wanted, it in fact was better. Having escaped Tevinter, he made his way to Redcliffe to help his dearest friend contact the Inquisition when he was given the command that would change his life.</p>
<p>*please watch evolving tags with each chapter, rating for future chapters*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This fic is very (very) loosely based on the book Ella Enchanted, which was my second favorite book when I was growing up.
> 
> I don’t know yet how many chapters it will be, nor the exact days I will post updates. My current goal is: As often as possible.
> 
> This is unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

The air in Dorian’s lungs burned as he gasped for oxygen. His side ached badly from where a rage demon had managed to swipe his side, the skin not only torn but blistered and red as well. His mind was exhausted, his body too and yet still he was compelled to move forward. Compelled to move ever closer to Haven so that the Inquisitor and her army had a chance.

 

Dorian felt his eyes well up briefly as he thought of Felix and the command that urged him onward.

 

_“Dorian, you should go.” Felix gasped, the Blight sickness even more obvious in his distress._

 

_“I’m not leaving you! We can both get there, I just need_ time _to find a mount for you.” Dorian grasped Felix’s hands tightly, giving a gentle tug, trying to urge the sick man forward._

 

_But Felix shook his head sadly, pulling his hands from Dorian’s grip. “I wont make it Dorian, you know that.” The sick man took a deep breath, looked Dorian in the eye and did the unthinkable. “Dorian, I command you to go to Haven and warn them of the Venatori’s attack.” Felix spoke in a strong voice._

 

_Dorian felt his face involentarily arrange itself into a look of horror and betrayal. Against his will his legs began to move him backwards and then turned him and began to run. “Felix!” He was able to look over his shoulder briefly, he hadn’t been commanded to not look back, to catch a last look at his friend._

 

The gates were in sight. Sweat dripped down his face as he began a final sprint towards Haven, Felix’s last request and only command.

 

As he neared, Venatori agents seemed to materialize before his eyes. He twisted and turned, barely needing to think on his physical actions as the compulsion fought those who stood in it’s way. As the final Venatori fell, Dorian threw a final, though weak, fireball at the gates. “If someone could open this, I’d appriciate it!” He shouted, collapsing to his knee as he waited for the gates to open. The _need_ to tell someone in the Inquisition about the Venatori was a constant itch in his mind and an ache in his bones.

 

The gates creaked open loudly as a small group of people came running out, led by a petite Elven woman. The Herald gazed at him with wide eyes as Dorian pulled himself up from his kneeling position. “I’m here to warn you, fashionably late I’m afraid.” He took a step forward feeling the relief of completing the command, causing his legs to momentarily give out. Just as he was sure he would embarass himself by falling on his face he felt strong arms wrap around his shoulders, giving him support. “Might exhausted, don’t mind me,” Dorian stated as he planted his staff more firmly, pulling himself up right. He met the eyes of the Elven woman. “My name is Dorian Pavus, and I bring grave news from Redcliffe.”

 

~*~

 

The battle following his warning, and the subsequent fight with the Commander (and wasn’t _that_ someone he should make sure to avoid) were a blur as Dorian assisted with not only the escape but with what minescule healing he was able to provide. He had also managed to avoid any true commands from those he assisted, most too tired or injured to even speak much.

 

The Herald being found did much to raise the spirits of those who followed her, and with the help of Solas, the Herald was able to find Skyhold with little issue. Once settled, the Lady Lavellan had kindly offered Dorian a place in the Inquisition. With no where to go, and so much to prove, where else was he to go?

 

The Inquisition had been in Skyhold for more than a month before Dorian had managed to avoid any direct commands. He was pleased to find that though barbaric, Southerners did say _please_ quite often, even if sarcastically.

 

Today, like most days, Dorian had sequestered himself in the library, sorting through the _endless_ amounts of Chantry rhetoric. He had just found the third copy about some volume about Divine Galatea and with a sniff of disgust he gave it a careless toss over his shoulder.

 

“Ouch! Is that always how you greet people?”

 

Dorian whirled around, eyes momentarily showing his shock as he took in Commander Cullen rubbing at a growing red mark on his cheek. Dorian felt his breath leave him in a rush and quickly arranged his face into a careless, if repentant mask. “My deepest apologies Commander, though most do announce themselves before they _lurk_ .” Dorian watched in amusement as the Commander’s face colored the faintest of pinks. “However, I would never greet someone with _that_.” He waved absently at the book Commander Cullen held in his hands.

 

The Commander cleared his throat, taking a few steps into the alcove Dorian had claimed for himself. He placed the offending book absently on one of the shelves before turning his full attention to Dorian. “The Lady Inquisitor has informed me that you will be conducting research on this Elder One, Corypheus?” Dorian nodded, and turned to fully face the Commander. The warrior cleared his throat again, seemingly nervous. “To be undertaking such a task, you must be a skilled researcher?”

 

“The best,” Dorian replied with a smirk. He allowed himself to relax, crossing his arms as he leant back against the shelves.

 

“I was wondering if you could assist me with some of your skills then,” The Commander’s tone changed from hesitant to that of a Commander quickly as he continued. “We need more research done on lyrium. Specifically effects of it on templars.” Dorian tensed at the tone, which caused a mild itch to begin in his hands and head. However, the lack of specific command allowed him time to process the, technical, request. It also allowed him time to think on the request as well.

 

“Lyrium and templars? There isn’t much here, but I could perhaps speak with our dear Ambassador. She might be able to get me the tomes I need from Tevinter and Orzammar.” Cullen seemed to grow pale at that but gave a quick nod before turning to walk away. He stopped however, turning back to face Dorian.

 

“Leliana tells me you play chess?” And of _course_ the Spymaster would know something as insignificant as that about Dorian, but not the secret he held most dear. “She has also ordered me that I’m to take a breaks from now on,” and was that a small sneer Dorian spied! So not only did green troops make the Lion of Fereldan snarl, but breaks as well!

 

“Are you asking what I think you’re asking me, Commander?” Though he hadn’t played in years, Dorian had enjoyed playing chess with Felix, even if his friend refused to play if he cheated. The prospect of company sounded amazing, since fleeing Tevinter and what his father had done to him he had tried to keep his distance from others. The more time he spent with the Commander, or anyone for that matter, the more likely it was that he’d be found out. And once they found out, what was to stop them from taking advantage? Everyone who knew eventually did.

 

The Fereldan cleared his throat, nervous again. “Would you like to play, tomorrow perhaps?” The man’s gloved hand raised to rub at the back of his neck, looking more than prepared for rejection.

 

And, just because he loved to be contrary, “I’d love to. Tomorrow after midday meal, Commander?”

 

The blonde nodded, a relieved smile gracing his features. “Tomorrow, do _not_ be late.”

  
As the smiling blonde left, Dorian forced his face to remain in a rictus of amusement until he was alone again with the itch under his skin and the buzz in his head repeating over and over: _Don’t Be Late_.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Thank you everyone who gave kudos, comments and bookmarked this, and thank you even to those who didn’t, I hope that you’re enjoy the story! 
> 
> This is still unbeta’d, all mistakes are of course mine.
> 
> This chapter is short, but I have mostly finished another one, and I plan to put it up ASAP. I'm sorry It took so long getting this up, I wanted to make it longer but the harder I tried to make the chapter longer, the more I felt like it wasn't working.
> 
> So, short chapter, but the next one should be up much faster, I've decided to try to let the chapters tell me when they're done lol.
> 
> Also, I know nothing about chess.

Dorian hadn’t been late for the chess match. A half an hour before he was due to meet the Commander, Dorian’s body had made the decision to head there while he had been mid conversation with Varric.    
  


“Sparkler! What are you doing?” 

 

“Terribly sorry, Varric! I just remembered a very important meeting.” Dorian tried to affect a careless wave from over his shoulder as the door to the gardens closed behind him.

 

~*~

 

Cullen was prompt, and had appeared surprised to find that Dorian had beaten him to the table as well as already set up the board. “Hello Dorian,” Cullen nodded as he sat, sending a hesitant smile to the mage.

 

Dorian smiled brilliantly, though his insides quivered a little with the relief of the commands release. “Lovely afternoon,” And didn’t this just feel awkward.

 

The first match they played was mostly silent, small talk occasionally breaking through the uncomfortable silence, as well as hesitant smiles.

 

Cullen’s surprised laugh when Dorian won the first match broke the silence. Both men exchanged a glance before Cullen asked, almost shyly, “Do you have time for one more match?”

 

Dorian had already begun arranging the pieces before Cullen had finished the question. “I think I can squeeze in one more before returning to my  _ terribly _ busy day.” He worried he appeared too eager, and though they hadn’t spoken much the first match, just being around another person was doing much to lift his spirits. And with his spirits lifted, Dorian’s love of talking returned. 

 

Dorian had lost a pawn when he finally managed to verbally meander his way to the topic he was most curious about. “Commander, if you could indulge me? I was curious why a southern templar would be curious of the effect of lyrium.” Dorian lifted his eyes, meeting the Commander’s even stare, the skin around the other man’s eyes tight. Though not common knowledge, it was known in the Imperium that the templars in Southern Thedas took lyrium, and why they took it.

 

Cullen cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable. “Um, some of the templars have expressed concern.” Dorian raised a brow, nodding his head in a manner that showed the mage had already sussed that out. The Commander looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, and Dorian took the momentary distraction to switch two of his pieces around. “They expressed concern about some of the side effects of lyrium. They, uh, mentioned wanting to possibly wean off, stop taking it.” 

 

Dorian hummed in acknowledgement, twisting one of the ends of his mustache. “Well, then you asked the right man to help you.” Cullen gave a hesitant smile as he captured another of Dorian’s pieces, and for a moment Dorian felt his insides quiver for a reason other than the compulsion.

  
Dorian lost the second match.

**Author's Note:**

> Just to be clear with this, because I worry it may seem like I’m picking and choosing: When Dorian is compelled to follow a command, it cannot be ambigous in the phrasing, there should be no way to inturpret it as anything other than a command. If he is able to inturpret it as a request, he has free will.


End file.
